Let Them Dance
by xxshebeexx
Summary: May finally gathers the courage to confess her feelings to Ash, but someone else gets there first. Turning to another of her friends for comfort, who can heal her broken heart? Various shippings.


Let Them Dance

The heat of the day had faded as the sun dipped towards the horizon, bathing the sweeping hillside in golden rays as it went. A gentle breeze teased the leafy green crests of the trees lining the garden and played with the hazy pink and vivid purple pansies that dotted the flowerbeds, competing with the twirling butterflies which flittered among them. Further down the garden, on a sprawling paved patio, was the constant swirl of yellows and greens and reds interspersed with black; dancers, caught up in one another arms as the light faded to dusk, swaying to the gentle notes of the flute being played in the growing darkness.

May wished she could be anywhere else in the world but here, tonight.

Leaning against the veranda overlooking the patio, she sighed for what must have been the hundredth time that evening. She didn't know how long she'd been standing here, but she had nothing better to do.

"Hey, what are you still waiting here for?"

She looked up and her eyes found Brock's, standing beside her. He was smiling lightly at her, two fruit punches in his hands, looking as casual as he could in his starchy white shirt and formal black trousers.

She shifted a little; the red heels she was wearing had looked so pretty in the display window, but she wasn't the kind of girl who was used to tottering around in heels for most of the day. Taking Brock's arm, she led him to the bench beside the banister of the veranda and sat down gratefully, accepting the punch he held out to her.

The bench settled heavily as Brock leaned back beside her. He paused for a moment before speaking.

"What were you doing standing there? It's not everyday we go to a party like this."

May shrugged, swirling the punch with the straw, listening to the ice tinkle against the glass white with condensation.

"Yeah, I guess not."

"It's pretty cool really, Ash's mom and Professor Oak deciding to get married. I never saw that coming at all."

May couldn't help snorting at that. "Yeah, you and Ash are the only ones in the world who didn't see it coming."

"Ash's face when they said they were engaged! Priceless! If you hadn't been thinking quick, May, he would've dropped -----------."

May smiled at the memory. "He came around eventually though. Even if he did look a little weirded out at the ceremony today."

"Ah, don't mind him," Brock said easily, taking a long sip of the punch. "It's not like he's got anything to complain about himself, after all."

May's smile vanished and she busied herself with her punch, as if the sweet red juice could wash memories away in an infusion of strawberry and passion fruit. Her head dipped, loose dark curls falling to frame her face.

_The ceremony was over; the guests had left the chapel and were winding their way along the dusty road to the Professor's house, chatting and laughing amongst themselves under the glaring heat of the afternoon sun. May had been among the last to leave, searching for Ash outside the vine covered chapel, nervously running her fingers through her freshly curled hair and gripping the ruby clutch bag in her left hand. Max had waited with her for a while, tugging her red dress, eager to get to the Professor's house and the buffet awaiting them there. He'd gotten bored and left with a smiling Brock, who'd winked at her before setting off after the other guests._

_Finally, Ash emerged from the chapel, his mother and her new husband in tow. She'd waited at the gate and watched them talking, watched Delia kiss her son's cheek and Professor Oak ruffling Ash's hair, as unruly as ever, before the two newlyweds left to join their party. _

_Feeling her heart pounding frantically against her ribs, May had been about to step out from the gate when a final person appeared from the stone chapel. Misty was smiling broadly, her red hair set with a beautiful silver seashell that sparkled in the sunlight and her delicate curves were highlighted by a simple turquoise dress that gleamed and swayed as she moved. Ash's smiled mirrored hers for brilliance, and, cheeks slightly pink, had offered her his arm and escorted her to the road._

_Suddenly terrified, May almost tripped over the hem of her long dress as she stumbled away from the gate and up the road, leaving dust spewing up behind her in her hurry. Her head was spinning and something was making her stomach do a thousand somersaults a minute. By the time she arrived at the party, she was flustered and sweaty and confused. She ran to the bathroom, shutting the heavy door behind her and leaning against the cool tiles, willing her heart to stop racing._

"I guess he doesn't," May murmured in reply around her straw.

"D'you know," Brock continued, "that all the time that they travelled together, they never stopped fighting? And if they did ever stop, it was only cos Ash was eating or having a battle. It took them six years to get this far. Six years!"

Brock was looking out over the patio, which was now lit with the soft light of dozens of candles scattered about the grass, as the twilight deepened. The gentle tones of the flute could just about be heard on the breeze.

May didn't look up, she knew what he was watching. In the centre of the dancefloor, at the heart of the other couples, a twirl of turquoise and black.

_She emerged from the bathroom sometime later, her hair rearranged as best as she could, her dress straightened. The banquet in the garden was already well underway by the time she reached the garden. Her eyes scanned the tables, her heart lurching as she spotted Ash at the top of the garden, sitting at a white wrought iron table with his mother and Professor Oak, Misty and Gary beside him, laughing and talking. Tears threatened to rise in her eyes, before a shout from Max brought her to her senses. She sat down quickly at a table with him, and the arrival of Brock and Tracey with platefuls of chicken and lamb and fluffy white pavlova dotted with kiwis took her mind off things._

_It was only in the evening, when most of the guests were ensconced in loungers with glasses of raspberry fizz or tall flutes of golden champagne, enjoying the music, that May was left on her own again. The boys had disappeared, presumably on the search for more mint ice cream and the veranda was deserted. She leaned against the banister, letting it take her weight, and turned to watch the dancers under the glow of the setting sun._

_And that's when she saw them; Misty beaming brightly, face tinged rose, as he held her hand in his, leading her to the patio. May had watched as he hesitantly placed a hand on the curve of her waist, unsure of what he was doing. And then they'd danced, a little nervously at first, until she was tucked tightly against his chest and he had his arms around her, fingers tangled in her fiery hair, holding her as close as he could while they swayed gently to the music, oblivious to everyone else around them. The world had ceased to exist for them, there was just a here and now and nothing else._

"It just seems to work with some people." May was suddenly aware that Brock was talking again. "I mean, take me for example. I could spend forever running around after Nurse Joy or Officer Jenny or any other girl for that matter, and d'you think I'd find one that's actually impressed by my flattering and what should be unresistable charm? No." He shook his head dejectedly. "I'm going to have to find out what Ash did to have Misty after him. Must've been something good. Hard as it is to imagine Ash doing anything vaguely romantic or good to Misty, though! Still, he must have done _something_."

Or maybe _she_ did, May found herself thinking, somewhat bitterly. There was something in her chest, making it tight and hard to breathe. She took a long draught from the punch glass and was surprised to find it empty already.

"I – I – think I need more punch," she stuttered, climbing awkwardly to her feet again, almost dropping the glass. She stumbled on her heels, almost tottering to the ground; she would have, if Brock hadn't suddenly appeared at her side, catching her in his arms.

"I – sorry," she breathed into his shoulder, clutching at the lapels of his shirt.

"I'm thinking you should sit down," Brock said, guiding her back towards the bench, sitting her gently down on it, before taking a place beside her again. This time though, he faced her, tipping her chin up with his hand, concern on his dark features. "May, what's wrong?"

And then she couldn't help it anymore; heavy tears dropped as she squeezed her eyes shut and landed on the folds of her ruby dress, leaving wet splotches on the silky material.

Alarmed, Brock reached out and brought her to his chest with a strong arm, wrapping her in a sudden embrace. "Hey hey," she heard him murmur into her curls, as he swayed her back and forth. She clung to his shirt with both hands, burying her face in the white material, letting her tears soak into it. He just held her and rocked her until there were no more tears left to cry.

Eventually, she sat back a little, turning her head to rest it against Brock's shoulder.

"I … I'm sorry," she repeated, sniffing. "I didn't mean to… you know, cry."

"I know, I know," he said softly. "But… why?"

May bowed her head a little, feeling the velvety shirt brush her cheek. "It's… oh, I don't know how to explain it."

"Ash?"

It was a guess, but the sound of his name made May's breath quicken momentarily. "Yeah."

"You wanted to tell him how you feel about him today." That was a statement.

"Yeah."

"But, turns out, Misty got there first."

"Pretty much."

"May – " Brock turned a little beneath her weight, so that he could look at her face. That brought a flush of red to her tear-stained cheeks; she hadn't realised just how close they'd gotten. She was suddenly acutely aware of his hands on her bare skin and the feeling of his breath on her lips as he spoke. "May – he's not the only guy in the world. He's not the one for you."

"But – how do you know? I thought he was."

"Because I do. You travelled together, you have a lot in common. But he sees you as a friend, and nothing more. But there are others out there who'll see you as you really are – beautiful, strong and brave." He was smiling now, his gaze following the outline of her face. "I even know someone out there who already sees you in a different way, who thinks about you even when you're not there and who'll have the courage to tell you how he feels one day."

There were tears welling up in her eyes again, and she brushed them away with her little finger. "Roses… for Beautifly…"

Brock was beaming now, and he curled a brown lock of her hair in his finger.

"Roses for Beautifly."

He leaned a tiny bit closer and he brushed her cheek with his lips; a kiss so soft yet enough to bring a smile to fruit-punch-stained lips and to give her heart a flash of confidence and anticipation. She brought her arms around Brock's neck and hugged him close before disengaging herself from his arms and standing.

With the moonlight behind her, she was a defiant; a proud silhouette against the night.

"Let them dance," she said. "Let them dance. Because I don't need him. You're right, Brock." And then she was smiling at him again. "There is someone out there for me. I'd already found him and was too caught up in someone else to even see it. And there's someone out there for you too."

She turned towards the garden, and let the moonlight highlight her face and her curls, before cheekily grinning.

"After all, there are plenty of Nurse Joys and Officers Jennies out there you haven't met yet. One of them is bound to fall for your, er, charms!"

With a cry of protest, Brock bolted to his feet. May merely giggled and, a little awkwardly, she dashed away, down from the veranda and onto the grass, Brock hard at her heels. She squealed when he grabbed her waist and tackled her to the ground, mercilessly tickling her ribs and her laughter echoed in the stillness of the garden.

And on the patio, oblivious to everything, Ash held Misty in his arms, breathed in the scent of her skin, let the loose strands of her flame red hair tickle his chin and wondered why they'd never let this happen before.


End file.
